


We're Nearly There

by somebodytoldme



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, alternative universe, band au, fun times, light humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somebodytoldme/pseuds/somebodytoldme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geoff got tickets to see the band Near Motion. Everybody is stoked, but Michael isn’t going to be taken into it. Not until he sees them live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Near Motion was a band with grossing popularity in almost every corner of the world, the United States being no outsider. Near Motion began in Oxfordshire, England when two boys created a duet, Gavin Free on guitar and backup vocals with Dan Gruchy on drums and lead vocals. They called themselves the Slo Mo Guys. They never really released why that name was picked, but it is believed that the pair had some interest in slow motion cinematography, which often appeared in Near Motion’s music videos.

But as they preformed their first gig, it became apparent that having a guy on the drums and as your leader singer didn’t work out. They came to the decision to induct Ace and Paul. Ace was the leader singer with an edge, and Paul was the loud bass guitarist.

They played many gigs, swiftly growing in popularity, and then we saw a fanbase begin. But they didn’t really hit it off until their first single “I’ll Change” hit the radio. Weeks after the single was played, they were signed off onto a label, with the name change Near Motion.

After the name change, the band jumped into the franchise. They had just been small town boys playing music, but now they each modeled a stigma. Dan was the man’s man, he was gruff and sporty. Ace was the leader confident, charismatic and the spokesman for the band. Paul was the class clown of the group… Always tossing good humor in.

And Gavin? Gavin was a mystery. He didn’t talk in interviews. He always returned right back to his trailer after a show. Everybody in the band, however, treated him fondly. Especially Dan. Which was a great for the fanbase that shipped the pair. But not a lot was known Gavin’s true personality. Only that he was the lyricist of the group.

Michael tosses the magazine down on the table, crossing his arms, “the rest of this is just talking about how good their hair and clothes are.”

“Well, at least it gave you something,” replies Geoff sternly from the couch across from him.

Michael shrugs his shoulders, not really even sure why he is here in the first place… Sharing this stupid motel room with four other dudes. Geoff, Ray, Ryan, Jack… He glares over at Ray who is wearing a Near Motion shirt like a little fan girl. Actually, everybody else, but him was. Traitor.

“What? I actually like them, their stuff isn’t bad.”

“Everybody likes them, Michael, don’t see how you don’t.”

He slouches into the chair, crossing his arms, “yeah, well, we’ll see if they are all talk in a few hours.”

It was too often, these days, that a band was all auto-tune and was terrible live. He wouldn’t be taken in by such a band. So, instead, he dragged out his guitar, much to the other men’s groans and began to play his own melody. If Near Motion was any good, at all, then he’d apologize. But if not, he’d smugly wear it the rest of the weekend in this motel in New York.

—-

The stadium was huge, and from what they had heard they sold out the day before. So, this whole arena would soon before of jerking, yelling, fans. That sort of thought made Gavin’s heart pump in his chest. 

“Nervous, there Gav?” Ace claps him on the back, full of his usual confidence.

“What if my fingers…forget they’re fingers?” he murmers, glancing down at his hand accusingly. What if on stage he completely forget the cords, and screwed it all up. What if…

Ace laughs. “Please, you’ve played those cords until your fingers bleed, I doubt you’ll forget.”.

Paul winks at him, “if you do, I’ll cover for you.”

Dan swings an arm around his shoulder, it’s comforting to have his best friend here with him. “I’m nervous too, don’t worrry,” he whispers in his ear. And it is just what he needed to hear, he feels his stomach settle. 

“Alright, we have about two hours to waste, and then they say we have to be in for makeup and dress. Okay?”

Everybody nods to Ace.

—-

Michael doesn’t get why they have to there an hour early. They have reserved seats in the sixth row within the stage. They will be able to see the sweat pour off Near Motion’s faces. He didn’t know what possessed Geoff to purchase such expensive seats and backstage passes, then have them all share one fucking hotel room. But when he asked, Geoff replied that a friend in the music industry hooked him up, and they were cheap as dirt. However cheap dirt was these days.

Drinks certainly were not cheap.

“Oh, stop being a negative Nelly,” Geoff accuses, taking a sip of his beer.

To which he shrugs in his seat. Only to be interrupted by Ray, who jumps up at his side. “They’re coming out!”

Michael perks up in interest, standing to watch the first of the band stroll out on stage. By the magazine’s adoring images this was obviously Ace. He’s a symbol of confidence as he walks out, waving and grinning to the cries of the fans. Michael feels like he might go deaf with the particularly loud girl screaming in his right ear. He would’ve turned around and glared, if he wasn’t entranced at watching the other members file out.

Paul gave a little fist bump to the crowd, moving to fix the speakers. Dan and Gav got the largest response as the came out together, fully decked out in their stage clothes. Dan had his looped around Gavin’s shoulder, his body protecting Gav from Michael’s field of vision, and he gave the crowd a small nod of acknowledgement, before whispering something in Gavin’s ear.

And then there was a few more screams before he deserted the guy for his drums, Ace waving his arms for the crowd to calm down. They seemed to listen as the last cat calls began to settle.

That was when Micheal caught his first glance of Gavin. The guy was shrugging the guitar strap over his shoulder, just a few feet, directly in front of Michael. He couldn’t deny he was a little star struck. Gavin was attractive. 

Of course, he had noticed that before in the magazine’s pictures… But they didn’t seem to do justice to his presence. He didn’t even look at the crowd as he adjusted his strap, and fixed the earplug in his left ear. Yet, Michael was caught on him. The tight jeans that left nothing to imagination. A small polo which he might of thought to be goofy, if it didn’t show a trail of skin between the belt and hem of his shirt. And his hair, his fucking hair, was pointed up in all directions as if he had just had a good fuck backstage.

He listens distantly to Ace talk, and watches as Gavin readies his guitar. The first notes come, and Ace’s soft gruel voice pours out the lyrics to their first single “I’ll Change”. Michael watches Gavin’s eyebrows bunch in concentration as his fingers pour over the guitar on autopilot. His lips form on the edge of the words Ace sings, as if he knew them to heart. Which, in fact, was a very good possibility as he wrote them.

Half way through, an elbow catches his side, “not bad, huh?” Geoff shouts over the music.

Michael can’t deny it, he catches himself smiling, “yeah, they’re alright.”

Really, though, they are more than great live. 

—-

An encore later, and the band is crashing in their trailer. Gavin is in the midst of pulling off his smelly socks, much to Dan’s protest, when there is a knock on the door. 

They are all hyped up on adrenaline, but also are dead tired. So, there is some debate as to when will get the door. In the end Gavin ends up slouching at the frame, swinging the trailer door open to reveal a group of guys behind their manager. 

Right, he had completely forgotten they had sold those backstage passes… His manager had said it would be a good idea to allow some fan service, of some sort. 

The guys standing there look just about as uncomfortable as he feels, one in particular, the curly haired dude who is looking down at his shoes. “Um, George?” 

The manager looks down at his bare feet and ‘tsks’. “Brought these fellows back here, already checked them… Seems to be in order.” With that George bolts out of there. Alright.

They had never done backstage passes before, and normally after a show they just would unwind by drinking or playing video games. Not even remotely interesting. Gavin curls up his toes, glancing back around to the guys who are currently pelting dirty socks at each other. 

Dan pauses, getting hit in side of the head as he does. “Whose it, Gav?”

“Some guys with back-stage passes?” he looks apologetically at the guys waiting outside. Yeah, this is awkward.

“Oh, right!” Paul hops up, and comes trampling for the door, “any babes?” His face falls at the lack of groupies, but all the same he pushes Gavin out of the doorway to welcome them inside.

“What are you doing letting them stand outside, Gav? Sorry about him, he’s a bit of an airhead.”

The group files in, and Gavin drifts back to his corner, rifling for some bevs while the others mingle. 

“Nice show,” a voice offers behind him.

Gavin looks up to see a polite smile on the curly’s face. To which he doesn’t really know how to respond. He scratches the back of his neck, laughing lightly, “yeah, well, I was pissing myself the whole time.”

Curly frowns slightly, looking a bit confused.

“Well, I didn’t actually piss myself, but it was bloody full out there. Never played in front of so many…” And now he is babbling again. A sock hits him in the back of the head. 

“Stop, babbling, B,” offers Dan with a grin, who is currently talking to a guy with dark, shaved hair. He thinks he heard him introduce himself as Ray.

Curly seems to have caught his breath now, he laughs. “Right. Name’s Michael, by the way.” He offers his hand.

Gavin straightens and places a beer in it instead. “Michael, Gavin. Nice to meet you. I hope you guys like video games, because Halo 3 is our ceremonious play after a gig.”

And the grins on their visitor’s faces almost are instant. They look among each other as if they knew a secret they weren’t going to share. Michael crosses his arms, “yeah, you could say we like video games.”


	2. Chapter 2

When Michael first came to the concert, he was a cynic at best. But being here now, caught in the energy of Near Motion live. They had been more than what he anticipated. And although he knew Geoff, and the other guys, were waiting on his apology so they could say “We told you so”, he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. 

The real problem, at present, was not his conspiring friends, but the fact that they were going to meet Near Motion in a few minutes. The show ended on a high note, an encore in which they played a new song. And Michael was happily buzzed off his beer, when Geoff reminds him to meet by the stage after they all go on a bathroom break.

And it is a good thing that Michael does empty his bladder because he is suddenly feeling really anxious. Near Motion was a quality band, that much he had established. Problem was, he may or may not be very attracted to a certain mysterious guitarist. Though, there was a good possibility that the guys of Near Motion were also huge assholes. Perhaps that was the reason Gavin didn’t speak, because he was that much of a dirt-bag.

Something inside him refused to believe that, though. He didn’t want to believe Gavin was bad. Oh, for fucks sake, here he was a scared over some guy. Just a guy. 

He found the rest of the group already standing at the stage, looking refreshed and wearing their passes. Geoff motioned for him to join them. So, he awkwardly fumbled to show his badge to the guard dressed in a suit and wearing sunglasses at night. Tool.

When he joins the group, Ryan informs him that they are waiting on the manager. The clean-up crew around them are packing up what looks to be Gavin’s guitar, and his stomach gives a little. In attempt to distract himself, he glances over at Ray who is currently holding a stack of Near Motion CD’s.

He squints. “Why do you need ten of the same album?”

Ray grins wickedly, “you know how much these will sell on eBay, man?”

He wants to die. At the very least, hes slap his hand to his face, wishing he could just teleport out. It is then, however, that he notices Geoff is readying a disposal camera. “Geoff? What the fuck?”

He snaps a picture of Michael’s face, “what? I am just a fan.”

He groans as the flash blinds him. “Bullshit.”

As if things couldn’t get worse, the manager suddenly shows up. “Hello! I’m George!” he welcomes gesturing his arms extravagantly, and shines them a winning smile. Which, okay, Michael is now seriously regretting everything.

“It is great to have you guys here! And I assure you that Near Motion is just excited as I!” Michael kind of hopes they aren’t, because this guy looks like his smile is going to split. “There are just a precautions I’d like to go through with you. No cameras, video or picture,” Geoff bitches and moans under his breath as he hands over the camera.

“As for merchandise they’d be happy to sign later.” And Ray reluctantly gives up his stash with a pout. “Great! With that taken care of, let’s go!”

—-

Michael is so sick of this guy. This guy who currently thinks they care about getting a tour of the whole area. He forces them to stop at every trailer, and there he will explain that this is, oh, the make up crew. This is where Near Motion gets their hair done. This is where Near Motion practices. This is where Near Motion shits. 

And after what feels like forever, they stop in front of another fucking trailer. There, George spreads his arms wide again. “And this, my friends, is Near Motion.” He smiles broadly, as if awaiting some sort of astonished gasps… What he really gets is a few blank stares and a mutter of “fucking finally” from Jack.

He clears his throat, awkwardly. “I’ll just get them then…” He knocks on the front door.

It is a few minutes of listening to the ruckus within the trailer, and a bump later, that the door flies open. It collides with the side of the trailer, ungracefully revealing a gamely sight against the door frame. 

Michael can hardly breath. There he is. Gavin Free, standing at the door, bare foot, looking ruffled and still sexy as all hell. He feels the guy’s eyes on him, and he quickly looks down, away, anywhere to hide. 

“Um, George?” asks the guitarist, in a voice that Michael has never heard before. And it is a good voice, yeah, but not at all the sexy, deep, mysterious tone he was expecting.

—-

“Aww, come on! Again!” Gavin crows in frustration as he is destroyed. “How the hell are you so good?”

Michael shrugs as he takes a victory chug of his beer, “I’m not that good. I’m no match to Ray.”

The British guitarist looks skeptically over at Ray and Dan, who are not playing due to lack of controllers. “You are lying,” he says flatly.

“Fuck!” cries Paul as he is murdered by Geoff, who just cackles in return.

“That’s it for you two! Switch!” Geoff announces happily, as he and Michael have won three executive rounds in a row. 

As there are only four controllers, they are forced to take turns, and Gavin and Paul reluctantly pass theirs to Dan and Ace. “Avenge us,” the guitarist says solemnly, patting Dan on the back. 

Michael passes his onto Ray and Geoff to Jack. He seriously pities the other team, as Ray will likely annihilate them.

A few moments later Ace complains loudly that his beer is out, and Gavin volunteers to go retrieve some more beverages from the other coolers outside. Michael follows suit.

—-

And that is how he found himself wandering outside on a cool summer’s night, looking for a cooler to loot with Gavin Free. It feels like he is dreaming. He has to be dreaming this shit because this just doesn’t happen. You don’t often sit around playing your favorite video game with celebrities. 

Gavin was a mystery himself. He wasn’t at all what Michael had anticipated. He was expected this kept to himself, intense artsy kind of guy. But Gavin was… He was so Gavin that Michael felt ridiculous as seeing him as anything else. He watched as the idiot tripped over a cord laid out from one of the trailers.

He sighed with exasperation, “watch your step, your manager will probably skin me alive, with that creepy ass smile of his, if you break your ankle or some shit.”

Gavin laughed as he dusted the dirt off his jeans, “I’m sure he’d be displeased he didn’t get to do it himself.”

“You don’t get along?”

“Well, he says I am difficult to manage.” Gavin shrugs his shoulders, “I am bad for the image, he says.”

“Is that why you don’t talk at interviews?”

The Brit scratches the back of his neck, “yeah, I suppose. That and Ace or Dan usually speak for me.”

Michael considers this now… The manager was obviously obsessed with keeping the band’s image as ‘cool’, and therefore split into distinct archetypes. And while most of the guys fell into a category, pretty simply, Gavin was one all on his own. If Michael has to place him, he’d say he was an idiot. But there was also a lot more there. Maintaining the mysterious, quaint view of Gavin wouldn’t be hard, so long as they kept him quiet.

But being quiet all the time must be hard. To have a ton of fans adore you, but not really know anything about you. Or know what you are like at all, that was difficult. And lonely. 

“I suppose it is, sometimes,” Gavin says scuffing his shoe into the pavement.

Michael didn’t realize he was said that out loud. Shit.

“It’s okay. I’m not bothered. But yeah, you were spot on.”

They walk on in silence for a while.

“Why don’t you just… Be yourself.” Well, that sounded pretty fucking cheesy.

Gavin sighed. “I don’t know. Everybody calls me an idiot, and people, they expect me to be this cool kind of guy. I don’t want to let them down.”

But that was it right there. The slight nagging feeling that had been eating at Michael. It wasn’t that he was disappointed that Gavin wasn’t some sexy mysterious guitar player, it was that he was relieved that he wasn’t. 

“Well, if it is any consolation, I like you better this way.”

Gavin’s smile broke out and completely melted him. Oh, fuck, he was so screwed. “It is, thank you.”

—-

The rest of the night is kind of a blur. He remembers Gavin and him, giggling, steal a whole cooler of beer and carry it back to the trailer (stealth like). There, they continue to play video games and chat about the most mundane things. And they get pretty wasted.

But, eventually, they are forced out when George returns again. The band needs to rest, he insists, and Michael doesn’t protest too much because he need to fucking rest his ass too. They make it back to the hotel on a pure spit of adrenaline. There, they pass out until a respectable time in the afternoon.

Michael wakes up with three text messages. They are all from the same number.

Hey! We’re on the road, on the way to Vegas!

I demand a rematch next time I’m in town.

Wake up, you donut! 

Michael sighs, figuring the fellow got the wrong number. He texts back.

I think you got the wrong number.

Beep.

Isn’t this Michael Jones?

Sigh.

Yes, and who is this?

Beep.

It’s Gavin, you donut!

Michael drops his phone.


	3. Chapter 3

“When’s the date?”

Michael looked up from his phone, “sorry, what?”

“You know, the date, with the girl you’ve been texting nonstop these past few weeks.”

He hadn’t noticed it, but Geoff was right. It had been a few weeks since the concert, when he met Gavin Free, he somehow retained the mysterious, quiet guitarist’s number. And of anything that Michael had learned it was that Gavin was anything but quiet.

Over the past few weeks, they never seemed to have an awkward pause. They always had something to talk about. And he isn’t talking about the stupid ‘how are your day’ texts, it was profound conversation. Well, not profound because Gav said some stupid shit, and had shitty points, but it was fun.

He learned that the Brit and him both had similar music tastes, but they argued often on whether or not the melody or lyrics were more important. Gavin, being the lyricist he was, argued that they told a story. Michael argues that the story would be shit without the proper mood or beat. More than one night they spent arguing this point until one of the guys on Gavin’s line told him to ‘shut his gab and get some fucking rest’ as the arguments would get pretty heated.

He also learned that Gavin loved video games, and editing videos. He actually confessed that he shot the slow motion sequences in their videos… Or at least, he helped direct them with the help of Dan. He says if the band hadn’t worked out he’d be in that industry. 

He also shared shit with Gavin, which was weird for him… Michael didn’t often share his personal life with a complete stranger, let alone somebody he was close to. But it was so easy to talk to Gavin, to tell him about his life. How he made a video for shits and giggles, and Geoff found him. How he is now at a job that requires a lot of work and time, yes, but it is fun as shit. He also talks about how he is afraid what he’ll do if this doesn’t work out. How he wishes he could finally finish the song he’s been working on for the past year… He even plays a few cords to Gavin over the phone. And that, that, is saying a lot. Michael doesn’t ever share that shit until it’s done.

But he does with Gavin.

He shrugged his shoulders, glancing down at his phone as it buzzed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tried to hold back a smile. Texting Gav back: Geoff is asking when our next date is LOL

“Yeah, sure,” Geoff murmurs as he turns back to whatever he was doing.

He pays him no mind, as the reply comes a few heartbeats later.

How’s next Thursday sound?

What?

It had been a joke, obviously… He didn’t expect Gavin to actually take it seriously. He was expecting the idiot’s usual snide remark. But, then again, that might just be his way of carrying the joke. It was all for laughs, right? Michael was just over thinking, again. He sighed and responded with:

Yeah, sure, why not? (;

—-

Things carry on as usual, neither Gavin or Michael mentioning the upcoming ‘date’. So, therefore, it was a joke.

Even so, as the next week came rolling in, Michael couldn’t get rid of this apprehensive feeling. He caught himself, several times, looking over at the calender on the wall.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…

He didn’t sleep that night. Left, wondering, in the dark what it would actually be like to “go on a date” with Gavin. And it wasn’t even the star Gavin he was thinking about, anymore. Not the strange enigma he had watched up on the stage.

But this was about the Gavin that he texted these past few weeks. The one who had him up all night on a huge debate, or the guy who often used the wrong word in a sentence.

—-

However, that morning was hugely anticlimactic.

Thursday came and nothing.

He woke up checked his phone for any messages, and there were none. He went to work, edited shit and ate lunch. Still no text.

And then he went home and made dinner. He ate, washed up, and got settled in for bed. 

He knew that neither of them were being serious. But even so, a small part of him still held on hope all week, as he had pondered on all those “what ifs”. Of course, now, they weren’t true. And he could deny it or not, but he was disappointed.

Most of all, he was pissed off for getting taken away with the idea. He was just a guy… And Gavin Free was a busy celebrity. He was on a world tour, and he didn’t have time to just stop and visit some loser in Austin. 

Stuff like that, it just doesn’t happen. Not in real life, anyway. 

—-

Thump, thump thump.

Michael groans into his pillow. He glances over at the alarm clock, squinting to read the blurred numbers… 5:04.

What asshole is pounding at the door at five a.m.? Figuring it had to be Geoff or somebody else from the office, he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Thump, thump thump.

“I’m coming!” he growls, throwing off the sheets. He reaches for his glasses, and stumbles out in the dark for the door. He fumbles for the lock, and throws the door open only to be blinded by hallway’s fluorescent lights.

“What the fuck-” he starts before being cut off by a swift embrace that squeezes the air from his lungs. It’s way too early for this. 

“Michael! I’m so sorry for being late. My flight got delayed!” Gavin cries.

Ah, well, fuck.

Micheal, honestly, doesn’t know what to say or do. It is so early, and just the fact that Gavin Free is standing in his door way hugging him has short circuited his brain.

“Uhhhh…”

Gavin releases him and steps back to appraise him. “Look at you! Were you sleeping?” Gavin asks to Michael who is currently sporting a pair of boxers and a pretty bad case of bedhead.

That’s it.

“Why, yes, Gavin, I was sleeping. I mean, I don’t know what time it is in England right now, but here it is five a.m.!” And god he feels like such a dirt bag dressed like this, but to be fair, he wasn’t expecting Gavin at all. And fucking Gavin Free looked, and smelled, just as good as the last time they were together. And Michael had totally forgotten how unforgivably hot the guy was.

“Aw, my little Michael, you’re so cute when you get angry.” 

And then the fucking prick left to wander around, uninvited in Michael’s apartment. He bites his tongue, shutting and locking the door behind him as he follows Gavin, who is now heading for the bedroom.

“I’m pretty beat from the plane ride,” Gavin Free announces, standing before Michael’s bed.

He stops at the door frame, staring at the Brit who is now settling on the edge of his mattress. He wets his lips. He must be fucking tripping out finally after a severe lack of sleep or dreaming.

“Hey! That’s me!” Gavin points out the poster of himself, from Geoff’s magazine, that Michael hung in his room. And, god no, this is a nightmare. Now he looked like a creepy little fan boy, goddamn it, he should of taken that down… But then he never expected Gavin to be in his bedroom.

“Er, yeah.” He mumbles, looking at his bare feet. He wishes, desperately, he could just go back in time and redo everything, starting with hanging that poster.

But to his surprise Gavin’s reaction is much different.

“Wahhooo! Michael Jones is my number one fan!” Gavin cries and fist pumps the air in victory.

His shoulders sag in relief, giving a hesitant laugh, “yeah, Geoff gave it to me as a joke… I sort of just hung it after.” But Gavin doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, he looks pleased. Which settles in his stomach, this was the Gav he had been talking to for weeks now. He wouldn’t care, he’d just be happy…

His Gav grinned. “Well, it is still cool. But, let’s get some rest, I have a completely top day planned.”

And he can’t help but being pulled to the bed. 

As they settle on either end of the bad, backs to one another Michael holds in a burst of pleasure because Gavin came to visit him. 

He counts it as a win.


End file.
